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THE BETROTHED. 



THE BETROT HED 



A N A TIO N'S VOW. 



BY 



DR. W. E. GUTHRIE. 



When thou vowest a vow unto God, defer not to pay it ; . . . 

Better is it that thou shouldest not vow, than that thou shouldest vow 

and not pay. — Eccles. v. 4, 5. 
With malice towards none ; with charity for ail. — A. Lincoun. 



'^COPVmHT%. 



PHILADELPHIA 
J. A. BANCROFT AND CO. 

1867. 




{Ri^i^ht of Translation reserved. ) 



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INTRODUCTION. 



There is no pride which humbleth not itselt in a preface ; the 
supreme judge is there. 



A GAME AT CHESS.^ 

For several years a painful feeling, I may say a feeling 
of shame, has deterred me from going to Europe. 

What can be thought of us in the Old World ? 

Many will tell me, ' This sentiment is pusillanimity. Is 
not the way open ? America, — the American is account- 
able to no one. Let Europe think as she may ! ' 

That is easily said, and it may satisfy some, even many 
among us. It is nevertheless true, that certain words 
pronounced in Europe recurred painfully to me when- 
ever I thought of this voyage ; and, not being able to 
conceal from myself their importance and justness, the 
regrets and reproaches they contained have hitherto 
postponed my departure. 

Those regrets and reproaches which have pursued, and 
yet weigh upon me, are well rendered in the following 
broken sentences : 

* Yes, it is true, . . . you are a young nation, . . . you 

1 This paper has been written in Philadelphia, soon after the contest 
of the Champion Chess Players of New York and Philadelphia, in 
the spring of 1 866. The work itself I intended to be dedicated to the 
American Congress, at the opening of its next session, as being then 
called upon to secure the principles involved in the war. Unforeseen 
circumstances have delayed its publication. 



4 THE BETROTHED. 

are rich, . . . your industry is prosperous, ... but you 
have slavery, . . . you buy and sell men !' 

Where is the American who, when he has become 
sufficiently acquainted in Europe to pierce through the 
superficial classes which, in him saluting gold, cast their 
nets under the most smiling appearances, — where is the 
American who, questioning the real sentiment of Europe, 
has not, then, heard those words full of reticence, which 
contain volumes of morality, which summon America 
before the tribunal of Christendom ? 

The following lines, under the title of ' The Betrothed,' 
have been written with the intention of painting, of 
rendering obvious to every one, the sentiments which have 
animated, and which do now animate, Europe towards us. 

These being committed to paper, the desire of consult- 
ing some well-informed person led me, manuscript in 
hand, to a friend, one of the most finished scholars that 
adorn the Philadelphia bar. 

I found him reclining in his arm-chair. Upon a table 
near him was a large chessboard ; and the chessmen left 
in confusion, pell-mell, as would be dead bodies on a 
battle-field, announced without doubt that a conflict had 
taken place. Indeed, my friend alone, general in two 
camps, had reproduced a quite recent combat between 
two celebrated champions. Pennsylvania had been de- 
feated, shamefully defeated, under the blows of a New 
Yorker ! The honour of Philadelphia had been staked, 
and some said in a whisper, lost. 



A GAME AT CHESS. 5 

The fact in itself was grave ; and grave also were the 
philosophical reflections of a beaten general, seated upon 
a still smoking battle-field. The fate of my manuscript 
was soon decided. In some cut-and-thrust ' blows, my 
friend the General, still warm from the first contest, 
analyzed, destroyed, reduced to powder the whole work. 
' Worthless, flat, — beneath yourself, — no logic ; a real 
stew, — a rhapsody, — and what a rhapsody !' 

And your humble servant, confused at least as much as 
my General after his first defeat, slunk away, and felt no 
safety till concealed in the most retired part of his dwell- 
ing. Perhaps death might have terminated my unhappy 
fate, if, in spite of my own chagrin, my mind had not been 
diverted by the combat replete with . events which, in my 
imagination, had preceded my arrival at the house of my 
noble friend ; and of which the confused heaps of horses, 
kings and queens, bishops and knights, still ' on the soil 
lying,' were irrefutable witnesses. While philosophizing 
upon the grave events of the battle, I fell asleep. In the 
morning, upon awakening, a new diversion presented 
itself to my wavering thoughts. Johnny, my schoolmate, 
to whom I had already confided my discomfiture, offered 
to take me to an old friend of his father, who, said he, 
'likes young men and literature, and will certainly give 
you some good advice.' A more opportune offer could 
not have been tendered me. We set out therefore im- 
mediately, and in a few moments were introduced in the 
presence of John Penn, — so well known to all of you, — a 



6 7HE BETROTHED. 

fine critic, an enemy to tobacco, and deeply in love with 
his books. He received us in so affable a manner, that I 
at once felt at ease. 

He kindly listened to me. I read to him my manu- 
scrij^t. While following its pages, my eyes would glance 
up at passages which I considered the most susceptible 
of meeting his approval, or upon which I had some 
doubt ; and, from time to time, a word of approbation 
or a smile would come to encourage me. When I had 
finished, he pointed out some corrections. ' This writing, 
my dear sir,' said he, ' has all the characteristics of an 
epic. 

' The plan of it is easily understood : you personify 
our young nation under the figure of Amerie, a young 
virgin ; every one will gratefully acknowledge the com- 
pliment. 

' Upon the lips of Gallic, her affianced and cousin, born 
and residing in the Old World, you place the sentiment 
of Europe. 

' An aged man, their grandsire, while consoling Gallic, 
unfolds the causes that have produced and developed 
that sentiment ; and also foretells the future which hes 
open before us, since we wiped out the stain w^hich sullied 
our flag.' 

For a few moments this excellent man ceased to speak j 
he seemed to be reflecting. As to ourself, we remained 
silent, as much out of respect as not to disturb him ; 
when he resumed : ' Now, you want a preface ; have you 



A GAME AT CHESS. 7 

thought of one ?' I repHed affirmatively ; and drawing 
a little handbook from my pocket, I began : 

* The Americans are God's chosen people ! 

* Can this proposition be sustained ? If they are the 
chosen people of God, what is the mission they have 
been called upon to fulfil ? And, this mission indicated, 
did they swerve from it, or did they fulfil it ? To answer 
this 'question, it would be necessary, first, to inquire, where 
is the American people, the chosen people of God ; or, 
at least, where is the people that, under the first appella- 
tion, is entitled to the second ? 

' The Puritans, inspired by suffering, put their whole 
trust in Providence ; confident in their right, self-relying, 
they preferred to leave their native land, their kindred, 
to struggle against all difficulties, and open furrows upon 
a new soil, rather than retain their place, pittanced by a 
haughty aristocracy, bowed under rich Pharisees ! Were 
these the people chosen of God ? . . . 

' The greater number, the offspring of yeomanry, with 
little polish, rude but upright, firm in their will when they 
believed themselves in the right, — what they demand is, 
that the bread earned by themselves should be theirs, 
without an armed hand being raised to appropriate it : 
these are the people. 

* Another immigration took place ; not the issue of the 
people, but of the so-called elevated classes, the oppressors, 
the nobles. It comprised nobles ruined by their extra- 
vagance, who preferred to quit the scene of their disgrace, 



8 THE BETROTHED. 

and courageously seek fortune elsewhere, rather than beg 
and crawl where they once commanded. It comprised 
also the dissolute valets of dissolute nobles, often already 
overtaken by the law, who, feeling that in a far-off country 
a well-bred valet resembles very much a fallen master, 
exiled themselves — to found also their noble families. 
This multitude has never known labour. To administer 
the wealth of others, i.e. to eat the produce of the labour 
of others, is what they call work. To work themselves, 
such was never their thought. No ! they go to seek a 
fortune elsewhere. Compulsion drove them away ; for 
where they were, they could no longer live without work. 
These are the nobiHty; and hatred of work runs in its 
blood. 

' Between these two extremes, a whole people, led by 
their prophet, the apostle of brotherly love, came fortu- 
nately to take their place, as a tie destined to assuage, 
to temper.' ... 

A gesture from my umpire suddenly stopped me. ' The 
people chosen by God ! for ? — ' And he inclined his ear, 
as if waiting for an answer. * Why do you tell us all 
this ? ... In your love for our country, you are going 
to tell us things too flattering. We will have to blush ! 
Modesty will overspread our faces with the blush of 
innocence. Do you not feel that we are already vain- 
glorious enough, and justly so, since we are Americans ? 
Do not tempt us with pride. Why not let us seek for 



A GAME AT CHESS. 9 

ourselves, and find an answer. The people chosen by 
God ! for ? — Let us look for an answer to this " for." 
With a little common sense — and there is some in the 
nation — the blindest among us, drawing his own con- 
clusions from our conduct, will very well know how 
to ascertain whether the road we follow ascends — or 
descends. 

*Why should you not artlessly tell us the object you 
had in view? Then your little tribulations, your defeat 
on the glorious liattle-field upon which our honour — the 
honour of Philadelphia — has suffered, but not been lost ; 
for I hope we shall soon have our revenge upon those 
New Yorkers ! 

' You will thus bring a smile to our lips, and will have 
accomplished your object in unfolding to us your subject. 
Can the so appropriate apologue, " The Bee and the 
Coquette," have escaped your memory ? 

* As to your hesitancy to publish this work, because it 
is not in . . . polished verses, but in a body as it came 
from your mind, and separated into members of sentences 
only to facilicate the reading — do you desire to charm 
the ear? or is it thoughts you A^dsh to convey? Do 
not force your talent, and in an attempt at harmony 
destroy your work. Permit me to refer you to the opinion 
of one of our most esteemed authorities, though born in 
another land — M. de Marmontel.' 

He invited me to visit him again, and closed the 
interview by placing his library at my disposal. I left 



10 THE BETROTHED. 

him, highly pleased with having made so valuable an 
acquaintance. 

Now, readers, I have followed this excellent man's 
advice in narrating the events as they happened. It wdll 
remain for you to decide between my two judges. 

Ought I to have remained broken down, dying under 
the blows of the first, — rendering my last breath upon 
the field of carnage, amid the rubbish, the horses, kings 
and queens, bishops and knights of the chessboard ? Or 
have I done better, listening to the encouraging voice of 
a friend less warlike, to consult a last arbiter ? 

To this question you alone may reply. 

A single prayer, very humbly would I dare address 
you : may it be granted. 

Do not open my book if you have been beaten at 
chess !^ 

1 It will be doubtless remembered, that during the war the battle- 
ground of Virginia was compared to a chessboard, upon which 
M'Clellan and Beauregard, and afterwards Lee and Grant, were 
manceuvring to checkmate each other. 



A CAME AT CHESS. ii 



THE BEE AND THE COQUETTE. 

Chloe, young and pretty, and above all a coquette, 
Every morning, upon her rising, 
Set herself diligently at work — 
I mean at her toilet ; 
And there, smiling, putting on sweet looks, 
She narrated to her dear confidant 
The sorrows, the pleasures, the projects of her soul. 
A giddy bee arrives humming. 
Help ! help ! cries the lady at once : 
Come, Lizzie, Martha, hasten, — 
Drive off that winged monster. 
The monster insolently 
On Chloe's lips alights. 
Chloe faints : and Martha, furious. 

Seizes the bee, and is about 
To crush it. Alas ! said with mildness 
The unhappy insect, forgive my error. 
The lips of Chloe seemed to me a rose ; 
And I thought — that single word recalled Chloe to life. 
Let us grant pardon, said she, to her sincere avowal ; 
Besides, her sting is slight — 
Since she speaks to thee, I scarcely feel it. 

What cannot we render acceptable with a little incense ? 

Chev. de F 



CANTO I. 



THE G'RANDSIRE. 

* There is a sore evil which I have seen under the 

sun, namely, riches kept for the owners thereot 

to their hurt. ' — EcCLES. V. 13. 
■ But in vain they do worship me, teaching for 

doctrines the commandments of men.' — St. 

Matthew xv. 9. 

What can so darken thy brow, 
My son, my beloved son ! 
Thou art emaciated, languid, gloomy, plaintive ; 
On my bosom, the bosom of thy Grandsire, 
Thou may'st repose thy aching head. 
Canst thou on thy way have met some unfortunate ? 
Our roof, thou knowest. 
To misfortune offers always a shelter j 
An unfortunate in the path of life, 
Dragging his misery. 
Has not yet of a refusal felt the bitterness. 

Amerie, thy affianced. 
On her brow wreathes the virginal crown ! 
O happy day ! 
And soon to the altar led, 



i6 THE BETROTHED. 

From thy hand, before God, 
She will receive the nuptial ring ! 



While around us, to crown our wishes, 
For the feast all are preparing, 
O my son ! what can so darken thy fair brow ? 



Hearken to the misfortunes of our fathers ; 
That the example of their fortitude, 
Since they left the land of their birth. 

May bring down peace into thy disturbed soul. 

Wretched, unfortunate themselves they were, 
When, bent under the inhuman weight 
Of a barbarous tyranny. 
Of worshipping their God 
The consolation was refused ! 
Unable in their broken hearts 
To longer quell the sacred love of liberty, 

They crossed the seas, 
Preferring with wild beasts to dispute their food, 
To creeping here from shelter to shelter. 
Exposed to the teeth of human tigers ! 



THE GRAND SIRE. 17 

O my son ! how sad the day of their departure . . . 
How many prayers to the Almighty ! 
That, severed one from the other, 
Strength and patience might restrain in their hearts. 
The storm gathered there by sufferings : 
That from their Hps without anger, 
Should escape but words of peace ; 
And that the blood of Christ, shed on those hearts of 

stone, 
Might, from those stones transformed, call out more humane 
thoughts.^ 



Winter was approaching. 
The equinoctial winds unchained, 
Mayhap against tyrants venting their wrath, 
In furious waves upheaved the waters of the ocean. 
At that solemn moment. 
Upon their children tears were shed . . . 

Holy baptism, O my son ! 
A communion of loving hearts ! . . . 

1- The first band of Puritans (dissenters from the Church of England) 
which emigrated to the New World assembled at Delft Haven ; and, 
kneeling on the sea-shore, their pious pastor commended them to the 
protection of Heaven, and gave them his parting blessing. After 
many delays, one hundred and one of them sailed in the ' Mayflower 
from Plymouth on the i6th of September 1620. 

B 



i8 THE BETROTHED. 

And their lips murmured : * When shall we meet again ? 
To the wild billows we entrust our hopes. 

O Lord ! have pity ! 
Grant the future be propitious ; 
That in after years again united, 
Of our sons with worthy companions, 

We may beneath the old roof, 
. At the altar celebrate the union.' 

In a last embrace they mingled their tears ; 
And soon, carrying them away 
In the deep furrows of its waves, 
From the suspicious eye of tyrants. 
The sea hid . . . The Pilgrims.^ 

And the raging ocean, in its deep recesses, 
During long days, endless nights, . . . 

Engulfed or saved ! 
Kept their lives in suspense : 
By the storm enwrapt, with clouds veiled. 
The skies from the eyes of those unfortunates, 
Since their setting out had disappeared. 
The raging ocean in its deep recesses, . . . 
Engulfed or saved 1 
Was rolling the ark by the Lord's hand led. 

* Is it not remarkable, that it was only by the express commands 
of King James the First that both Cromwell and Hampden were 
prevented from emigrating ? 



THE. GRAND SIRE. 19 

For over them Providence was watching ; 
And, towards a new land by Cokimbus discovered, 
Through the storm guided them. 

my son ! recover thy courage. , 

1 love to see, while listening to me, 
Thine eyes riveted on mine, brighten. 

Over my smiling brow, where thou didst often rest 
Thy sweet infant face, the storm also passed . . . 
But the Lord has given me strength ! 



III. 



Snow as a white mantle lay upon the earth : 
From the * Mayflower' detached, 
The skiff landed the exiles.-^ 
On the icy strand grouped, 
Of Christ, to their minds recalling the sufferings. 
Towards heaven raising their supplicating hands. 
They invoke its support ! . . . 
' O God Almighty ! 
Who hast given us strength and patience ; 
Who hast sustained us in days of trial ; 
Who, of the conspiracy of the wicked, 

1 The pilgrims landed on a rock they named Plymouth Rock 
(Massachusetts), on the 20th of December 1620, imploring divine 
guidance and protection. 



20 THE BETROTHED. 

From us hast diverted the blows ; 
Who towards this hospitable land, 
Through storms, raging elements, didst lead Thy children- 

' O Lord ! do not abandon us ! . . . 
Under the yoke of tyrants, 
In tears we were groaning . . . 
May Thy wrath fall upon us, 
If, forgetting the unfortunates, our brothers 
Who, behind us left, on the shores are still moaning ; 
If, of the blows which struck us, 

Forgetting the wounds ! 
If, of our chains, now by Thy hand broken, 

Forgetting the sores ! 
If ever, under our laws, . . . under chains, . . . 

Tyrants ourselves ! . . . 
We should make the unfortunate groan !' 



IV. 



Each with a steel wedge arms himself; 
But the burning iron from their hands escapes. 
And on the hardened soil emits sparks in falling. 
Could snow, frost, water everywhere congealed, 
Could these, of such men unnerve the will ? 
No ! in hearts where God reigns, 
Love and patience uphold courage ! 



THE GRAND SIRE. 21 

Trees felled, in a pile are collected ; 
The fire by their hands kindled, 
Soon towards the skies raises its crackling flames. 
Around that hearth in a family united, 
Women, children, in one embrace . . . 
Through their flowing tears perceive a gleam of sunlight ; 
The blue of the sky peers through the clouds . . . 
And on the faces of the children 
A smile is beaming. 



V. 



Of the power of men where were the limit, 
If, always by their conscience inspired, 
They did walk united ! . . . 
Conceding to-others what they themselves desire ; 
Just, sober, laborious ; 
Of experience saving the treasures ; 
Removing as they pass, the rough stones of the way. 

That their sons, beginning where they left, 
On the path of life might not bruise their feet ! 

Why should generation after generation, 

Trampling under foot a tyranny. 
Or suff'ering, groaning, perishing under it ; 
Why should they always have to give birth 

To new victims ! or to new tyrants ! 



2HE BETROTHED. 

If, of the Almighty, 
Prosperity, in the heart of man 
Must needs efface the impress. 
Let prosperity be accursed ! 
Injustice, satiety, idleness, 
Are the pollution which stains, 
And soon corroding it, destroys the work of God ! 

Say not that selfishness is the law of nature : 
And that, thus, societies enslaved, 
By new societies subverted. 
Are an immutable law of God ! 
That man ! may justly be an egotist and virtuous ! 

Egotism has its just measure 
In the strict satisfaction of an imperative want. 

It is then a law of nature. 
But labour, protecting man against his wants. 
Of self has marked the limit. 
And in his heart has made room for love. 
From, the Saviour's lips came forth these words : 

' Love each other, and God above all ; 
' This is the law and the prophets.' 

Man ! 
The Lord is present in thy heart ; 
Thy soul to Him adheres ; 
At the very moment 
When, of His law thou forgettest the sweetness ; 



THE GRAND SIRE. 23 

Of His voice which cries : ' Behold ! 
Open thy hand to thy brother' . . . 
Thou disown est the accents ; 
And no longer doest unto others 
What thou desirest be done unto thee : 

Already the Lord 
In thy sullied heart has ceased to reign. 

Men ! your palaces filled with treasures, 
Overflowing with gold and draperies, 

Where in idleness, 
Or in the rankness of your imagination, 

Insatiably ambitious ! 
A luxuriance scandalously regulated, 
From the theft of a loaf of bread . . . saves your 
honesty ! 
Your temples, to your pride, to yourselves erected, 
Where, with hypocritical words. 
To the people eulogizing patience, 
And in your liberality, ye worthies ! 
Throwing back to them, of their gold a few particles ; 
For their good, do you say, you administer. 
Yet take from them the fruit of their labour . . . 

O ye wicked Rich ! 
Your palaces, your temples, yourselves, 
In fragments shall fall destroyed, 
The dust by the winds dispersed . . . 
God does not dwell in a sullied heart ! 



24 THE BETROTHED. 

Jesus, the crucified Son, said : 
' Love each other, and God above all, 
This is the law and the prophets.' 
And, in each of your hearts, a divine hand 
Has engraven . . . the words of Christ ! 
Do not bury them under your iniquities, . . . 
And, always present with you, 
He will lead you to the right hand of His Father. 



VI. 



Of the Pilgrims, Providence favoured the efforts. 
Forests, melting away 
Before their invincible perseverance. 
To fertile fields, to villages give place. 
Arts at their voice flourish . . . 
From every part of the world. 
The oppressed, in addressing their vows. 
Think they perceive in the heavens, a star 
Which may lead them towards that land of hope. 

William Penn, the rich in the soul of whom 
The words of Jesus had taken root ; 
Penn, followed by a whole people, had crossed the seas, 
And founded the ' City of Brotherly Love ! ' ^ 

* William Penn landed at Chester on the 27th of October 1682. 



THE GRANDSIRE. 25 



And when the ' Mother Country,' 
Under her yoke . . . resolved to bend them ! 
On the shores which had witnessed their prayers, 
The Pilgrims in a phalanx renewed their vows. 

' O Lord ! do not abandon us ! . . . 
Under the yoke of tyrants, 
In tears we were groaning . . . 
May thy wrath fall upon us, 
If, of the blows which struck us, 

Forgetting the wounds ! 
If, of our chains by Thy hand broken. 

Forgetting the sores ! 
If ever, under our laws, . . . under chains, . . . 

Tyrants ourselves ! . . . 
We should make the unfortunate groan ! 

'■ Among us sin^ against our will. 

Has already corroded some hearts . . . 

Forgive us, O Lord !^ . . . 

Better to perish than to be slaves ! 

To liberty we consecrate this land, 

And on our banners w^e inscribe : 

» Speaking of slavery, Thomas Jefferson said : ' I tremble for my 
countiy, when I reflect that God is just, and that His justice cannot 
sleep for ever.' 



26 THE BETROTHED. 

"All men are created free and equal ! " '^ 



And victory, on the reverse, inscribed : 
' Washington, Jefferson, Franklin.' . . 
In the family of nations. 
The name of a new nation !^ 



VII. 



Over the heads of our grandsires. 
Years had in passing, long since thrown their whitening 
frost ; 

When Providence permitted, 
That, true at last to their vow. 
Surrounded by their grandchildren, 
Around the paternal hearth. 
They should take their seats. 

Twenty years have elapsed since I also, 
Of the holy hearth warmed again the ashes . . . 
For thy uncle with his affianced had come : 

His affianced . . . from Virginia, noble flower ! 

1 ' We hold these truths to be self-evident : all men are created free 
and equal.' — Declaratmi of Independence, 4th of July 177-6. 

2 Treaty of peace with England, 3d of September 1783. 



THE GRAND SIRE. 27 

Of a beauty ... of a soul fairer yet. 
Thy father with thy mother was also waiting, 
For the happy moments which were nearing. 
The torch of Hymen was Hghted ; 
And at the foot of the altar 
Both couples exchanged their vows. 
What beautiful day after the storm, 
Could give us more smiling hopes ! 

The Lord blessed their union : 
Amerie and thyself came into the world, 
Two tender flowers on the enamelled green of May ! 

Children of the same family, 
Wlien your mothers, daughters endeared to my heart, 
Guided your first steps, 
How happy were we seeing you smile ! . . . 
Angels of innocence and love, 
' Hyphens,' light but strong ties. 
Like climbers by the breezes swayed. 
Of which the tendrils, as would loving amis, 
Cling to the trees entwining their blooming branches : 
So, one to the other tottering, your little hands 
Asked for support, and scarcely embraced 

The mother, the aunt, the fathers. 
At your budding caresses we were smiling, 
And we said in our hearts 
While uniting your hands : 
' May the future reserve them cloudless days ! 



28 THE BETROTHED. 

Days of love and peace ! 
May their pathway be decked with flowers and innocence!' 



What can so darken thy brow, 
My son, my beloved son ! 
Thou art emaciated, languid, gloomy, plaintive ; 
On my bosom, the bosom of thy grandsire, 
Thou may'st repose thy aching head. 

Amerie, thy affianced, 
On her brow wreathes the virginal crown ! 
O happy day ! 
And soon to the altar led, 
From thy hand before God, 
She will receive the nuptial ring ! 

While around us, to crown our wishes. 
For the feast all are preparing, 
O my son ! what can so becloud thy fair brow ? 



CANTO II. 



GALLIC AND AMERIE. 



Au bord de I'horizon le soleil suspendu 

Regarde cette plage, autrefois florissante, 

Comme un amant en deuil, qui, pleurant son amante, 

Cherche encor dans ses traits I'eclat qu'ils ont perdu, 

Et trouve, apres la mort, sa beaute plus touchante.- 

Que cet astre, a regret, s'arrache a ses amours ! 

Que la brise du soir est douce et parfumee ! 

Que des feux d'un beau jour la mer brille enflammee ! . . . 

Mais pour un peuple esclave il n'est plus de beaux jours.' 

— ^Messeniennes. 
' For the wages of sin is death; ' — Rom. vi, 23. 



My father ! I suffer ! . . . 
The eloquent accents of thy voice 
Have of thy son penetrated the heart ; 
And in the bosom of his grandsire, 

He will relieve of his sorrows 
The oppressive weight. 



Such are verily the images 
With which my infancy was cradled 



32 THE BETROTHED. 

Two families, by the wiles of the wicked 
♦ Over the world dispersed, 

And, by the hand of God over the world protected ! 

As two celestial orbs, in their regulated course, 

At remote epochs in space meet 

And salute each other as they pass ; 

Two families by the deep divided, 
At some distant epoch of their wandering fate. 

Meet to celebrate the , union of their sons. 
To salute the sacred altar of the paternal hearth ; 

Before into the maze of life. 
The hand of destiny again casts them forth ! . . . 

AVhen may we, in one flock gathered, 
Around the old fireside for ever united. 
Implore the Shepherd, whose image on the blackened 
cross 
Over the mantle suspended, 
Of our deserted hearth seems to guard the sanctity ! 



II. 

Since of my parents, the grievous loss 

Is lying heavily upon me, , 
Thy voice, O my Sire ! with a mother's sweet tones, 

Has assuaged my sorrows : 
And for thee in my heart, my love is unbounded ! 



GALLIC AND AMERIE. -^i 

But a dark cloud overshadows my soul ... 
My father ! O my father well-beloved ! 
I am emaciated, languid, gloomy, plaintive ; 
Upon thy bosom, as upon the bosom of my mother, 
I will repose my aching head, and there confide 
What of my brow veils the serenity ! . . . 

With a full sweet hope my soul was cradled. 
O Amerie ! my affianced, I love thee ! , . . 
From my infancy thou hast been my hope ! 
That thou mightst prosper and beautify, 

W\is my dream . . . and 
When my mother, guiding my childhood, 
To the destitute taught me to give my bread ; 

Amerie ! ... in my heart, in my prayer, 
After the name of my mother I placed thy name : 
For while relieving poverty, my mother said : 
' Giving to the poor is returning unto the Lord, 
What to ourselves the Lord has lent' 
And in my child's heart it seemed 
That, wise and good as well as beautiful, 

Amerie, far away beyond the seas. 
Was thinking of me . . . and perhaps also 
Upon the wounds of a sufferer 
As balm from her voice, shedding the tears of a child . . . 

O Amerie ! I love thee ! 
And while for us the hymeneal altar is prepared, 



34 THE BETROTHED. 

My heart suffers . . . 
And, bursting its terrestrial envelope, 
To my poor mother would wish to return ! 



III. 



When to obey my mother's desire, 

Leaving her grave yet fresh, 
I also, of the ocean crossed the vast extent. 
Towards Amerie ! the Amerie of my dreams ! 
My overburthened heart to a friend's heart flew. 

As the land first to my gaze appeared, 
Confused and plaintive sounds, distant music, 
To the accents of my sadness 
Seemed to respond, and soothe my grief ^ . . . 
Upon the shores of Virginia, 
Virginia ! . . . a name to me endeared. 

In arms opened to receive me. 
With my tears, tears were mingled. 
And soon were blended with smiles. 
Powerful attraction of family ties. 
On that day my heart felt thee ! 

1 The history of generations of broken hearts is heard in the plain- 
tive songs of slaves on the plantations of America, as well as among 
the peasantry of Europe, to whom they were transmitted by their 
forefathers when they were slaves or serfs. 



GALLIC AND AMERIE. 35 



IV. 



In a sumptuous dwelling, where grandeur and dignity 
AVith full hands, upon its guests 
Shed the favours of a boundless hospitality, 
The first days were passed . . . and my rested limbs 
Recovered their elasticity. 
But alas ! . . . my tranquillity 
By some foreboding evil was soon disturbed : 
Perhaps my troubled spirit was the cause. 
The charm of sweetness which, in my love 
As with an azured atmosphere, 
Enshrined my kindred . . . the charm had paled : 
Colours less soft, touches more definite. 
Were delineated upon their features. 

Repose from my bed had vanished : 
Towards the mOrning only my weary eyelids closed ; 

And on awakening from a restless sleep. 
My rigid members could of my body scarce bear the 
weight. 
For when night, upon the earth descending. 

Had ended the labours of the fields ; 
When everywhere in nature, the hour of rest 
Had silenced the clamours of the day ; 
To my couch retired, my eyes in vain sought sleep. 
Strange rumours reached my ears ; 



S6 THE BETROTHED. 

Obscurity surrounding me, 
Peopled itself with phantoms ; 
And though joyous songs were sometimes heard, 
In the distance there seemed to be plaintive cries. 
Noises of chains, blasphemies, prayers, 
Blended in the calm of night. , 
And when the gale bowed in its rage 
The stately heads of forest trees. 
Cries, chains, blasphemies, prayers. 
Clashing, borne upon the wind, 
Like so many sharp blows made my heart bleed. 
Or if through wakefulness, fearing to lose my reason, 
I quit my couch and, over the plain 
By the rays of the moon softly lit. 
To refresh my spirits I cast my eyes ; 
It seemed to me that silent shadows 
From behind each screen stealthily moved away. 
And in my disturbed reason, of Hell 
In spite of me, I had a glimpse . . . 
The fires, the sufferings, the victims, 
The spirits . . . before me passing. 



V. 



One night, O terrible night ! 
With grief wearied my eyes were closed j 
A fearful sound from this painful sleep 



GALLIC AND AMERIE. 37 

Suddenly aroused ine : 
Terrible heart-rending cries ! . . . 
Of the infernal regions they are no longer shades, 

But victims by some tiger slain ! 
Seizing my sword, by the cries guided, 
Over the fields terror precipitates my steps. 

O my father ! 
What a terrible spectacle strikes my vision ! 
A creature of God, a woman, to a tree bound, 
By a fiend in human shape tortured. 
Under terrible blows groans and dies ! . . . 
The murderer, by her blood at each blow gushing forth, 
Is bespattered with the blot of infamy ! . . . 
Her unhappy children, 
Who, to protect her, had upon the monster rushed, 
By other tormentors are withheld. 
The blasphemies of the cruel wretches, 
The cries of the victim, afar off spread dismay. 
By terror visited. 
No one dares to raise his eyes . . . 
They repeat, trembling, smiling : 
* Good master ! good master !' . . . 



O Lord ! canst Thou permit such iniquity ! . . . 
On the assassin I leaped ! 
In a moment at my feet a lifeless form he lay ; 
And before the astounded people, I freed the victim ! 



38 THE BETROTHED. 

Then, under the emotions of such a horrid scene, 
On the reddened soil I fell exhausted.^ 



VI. 



When at break of day my eyes to light reopened, 
Near my couch Amerie was on her knees praying ! 
The rays of the sun on the awakening fields 

Bestowed hope and life . . . 
And I felt as though emerging from a dreadful dream. 
' Thou hast greatly suffered,' said the kneeling angel ; 
And pressing her hand, my tears began to flow. 

When under her care my strength returned, 

Led back towards the ocean, I took my way ; 

In the vessel driven by the winds, 

The plaintive strains of the shore 

Pursued me, dying in the distance. 

Soon in the bosom of my sire, my father ! 
I came as now, to conceal the sadness 
Which since that day is im.printed on my face ; 
To seek for peace, if it were yet on earth . . . 
For here my dreams still haunt me ! 

1 Such scenes were, in fact, seldom enacted in Virginia. There, and 
in other border states (except in remote parts), the usual punishment 
was to sell the slaves * down south,' where they were but too frequent. 



GALLIC AND AMERIE. 39 

When in the evening, praying for those I love, 
Amerie appears before me ; 
In her proud carriage, 
Under the sumptuous folds of her ample robe, 
Which trails like the mantle of a queen, 
I feel the yoke of the master \ . . . 

The sweat of the oppressed 
Into light white tufts transformed,^ 
And in our marts, for those luxuries exchanged ! 

O my father ! I suffer ! . . . 
When in my dreams, of my well-beloved 
I press the hand ... it is icy cold, 
As was the hand of the poor victim ! . . . 
And when this very night, thinking of our union, 
In her fair locks I wound my fingers, 
And to my bosom drew her head ; 
The flowers which so gracefully adorned 
Her virginal brow . . . were blood-bespotted ! 
And that head so endeared, in my hands transforming, 
O my filth er ! 
To my terrified gaze exhibited . . . 
The dark and dying head of the victim ! 
And in my room, by the Hght of heaven illumined, 
Around the walls in order were defiling . . . 

1 The 'appearance of a cotton- field is extremely beautiful ; the 
glossy dark-green leaves contrast finely with the delicate pink buds as 
they burst and expand in silken tufts of snowy white. 



40 THE BETROTHED. 

Chains, collars, whips, the auction-block, the traders, 
The hunter and his sneaking, howling hounds ; — 
Instruments of torture, by men invented ! 



A dark and gloomy cloud obscures my brow. 
Father ! O my beloved father ! 
I am emaciated, languid, gloomy, plaintive ; 
With a full sweet hope my soul was cradled, 

O Amerie ! I love thee ! . . . 
And while for us the hymeneal altar is prepared, 
My heart suffers . . , 
And bursting its terrestrial envelope, 
To my poor mother would wish to return ! . . . 



CANTO III. 



THE ATONEMENT. 

' . . . They have forsaken the Lord, they have pro- 
voked the Holy One of Israel unto anger, they 
are gone away backward.' — ISAIAH I. 4. 

' Wash you, make you clean ; put away the evil of 
your doings from before mine eyes. . . . 

* Learn to do well, seek judgment, relieve the 
oppressed. . . . 

* . . . Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be 
white as snow.' — Isaiah i, 16, 17, 18. 

O MY son, my beloved child ! 
Deeply do I feel thy grief. 
But on the wounds of thy soul 
Time ^vill pour a healing balm ; 
With health thy spirits will return ; 

From thy eyes for ever 
Those sad images will vanish : 
For the plaintive notes by the winds brought to thee, 
Into joyous songs will be converted. 
Into flowers and bountiful harvests, 
The genial blood of the victims, 
Fecundating the soil, will be transformed. 
On the flowery sward the happy child will play . . . 



44 THE BETROTHED. 

Amerie, thy affianced, 
Her brow bound with the virginal crown, 
From thy hand before God, 
Will receive the nuptial ring ! 



Immutable decrees, man, with impunity 
Is forbidden to transgress. 
When, deaf to the voice of love 
Which in the right way incessantly calls him, 
He thinks, by a contract passed between guilty 
ones. 
Under statutes to conceal his offences ; 
Like oil penetrating the tissue of a thick cloth. 
At its surface reappears ; 
So, the stain of his transgressions, 
Of the mass of his fragile laws 
Piercing the thick layer, reappears indelible. 

As the crested billows of the advancing tide 

Overtake and engulf the imprudent, 
Who from the moving sands too slowly depart ; 

So the foul invading stain, 
AVith its spreading margin, overwhelms the rash 
Who, of the Supreme Being unmindful, 
, Defying the wrath of heaven . . . 



THE ATONEMENT. 45 

On an altar by their guilty hands erected, 
Worship of their sins the Idol !^ . . . 

Man forgets that sin without respite, 

Haunts the footsteps of the guilty ; 

Visits him, even unto his children ; 

That sin must be washed away, 
Or at last, God withdrawing Himself, 
His body, his being covered with leprosy. 

In eternity is for ever consumed. 

It is in human blood that sins are cleansed I . . . 

When the Lord Himself, by His prophets, 
Of the tribes of Israel ordained the destruction, 
Of a sin . . . less heinous perhaps, were they guilty ! 



II. 



O Lord ! mayst Thou forgive those who. 
For paltry ill-gotten lucre to their pomp added, 

In Africa gave birth to that barbarous thirst. 
Which of the strong against the weak, enkindled the 

war.^ 

1 Even ministers of the gospel at the South, both in the pulpit and 
in their writings, presented slaveiy as of divine institution. 

- In 1442, the Portuguese captain, Anthony Gonzales, received in 
exchange for some Moorish pi'isoners, some gold-dust and ten negroes. 



46 THE BETROTHED. 

No more do they hunt for wild beasts, 

Nor for their fellows to devour them, 
But for whole tribes ! . . . 

Then at evening, as the hunter 

From the game at his feet lying. 
To sate his hunger selects the choicest parts, 
Ere he abandons the remains to the hounds j 
So, from the chase choosing the strongest, 
They immolate women, children, old men . . . 
And, dripping with the blood of the victims, 
They drive towards the shore that human herd ! 

O Lord ! mayst Thou forgive the hand 
Which, from these barbarians buying the victims, 
For paltry ill-gotten lucre to its pomp added, 
Into the new land with threatenings. 
Imported from Africa the first captive ^ . . . 

Jesus in the Temple, scourge in hand. 
From the holy place drove out the merchants. 

Oh ! why of a yet virgin land 
Didst thou tarnish the future ? 
Why didst thou, who callest thyself Christian, 

1 The introduction of slavery in the English, colonies of America is 
due to the commercial spirit of the Dutch, The first consignment of 
human merchandise was made by a Dutch ship to the port of James- 
town, Virginia, in 1620. 



THE ATONEMENT. 47 

Thou mother-country, 
Into that garden, why didst thou 
Introduce the forbidden fruit ? 

Why tempt man, serpent ! . . . 
Why thus throw the apple of discord 
Amid that happy people ? 
Upon thee, mother-country, will rest the disgrace ! 
To thee will redound the shame ! ^ 



III. 



Gold, in a virtuous hand, pure metal ! 
Of the labours of each represents the value ; 
As the clear water from a spring flows, 
And, everywhere slowly spreading 
Refreshes and fertilizes . . . 
On a soil yesterday sterile, 
To-day brings forth flowers, 
So, gold, from a virtuous hand flows, 
And of the wretched consoling the miseries. 
Of hail, storm, winds, retrieves the havoc. 
The victor in that pacific race. 



^ If the Dutch actually were the first to introduce slavery in the 
English colonies, the British Government refused to the burgesses of 
Virginia to let them exclude slavery from among them by law. That 
refusal was one of the grievances set forth in the first draft of the 
Declaration of Independence, for separation from the mother country. 



48 THE BETROTHED. 

To his brother extending the hand, 
In the arena where their strength 
And activity compete, restores equaHty : 
That new efforts, by experience seconded, 

May perhaps crown with success 
Him whom at present he sustains. 
This one in turn, to his brother opening his arms : 
' Take, take, brother, 
Harvests, fruits, that gold is thine ; 
Storm, hail, wind, of thy efforts have destroyed the reward; 
I only render thee what last year, 
In my distress, thou lendedst me.' 

But gold, in guilty hands accumulated, 

Vile metal ! . . . 
Commands, compels, corrupts, infects. 

Until at last, 
In the bosom of its oppressed victims, 
Raising of indignation the sacred wrath ! 

The flood let loose 
Overwhelms the bounds which retained it captive ! 



IV. 



One day, however, O human folly ! 
Leaders of the young nation, wise in their own conceit, 
Said : Let Good and Evil be made to live in peace ! 



THE ATONEMENT. 49 

As would jockeys each by the other duped, 
Like two brothers they decided to share : 
And, upon horses by Sancho handed, 
New Don Quixotes, chalk in hand, 

In the space rushing, 
From the Atlantic to the Pacific 
With an imaginary line through the air traced, 

They divided their empire !^ . . . 
As if to lead towards Good, there were more roads than 
one ! 

For, having read the mighty deeds of that good knight. 

Is it not more charitable to believe. 
That of his history their minds were dreaming, 
Than to think their genius by evil won. 
Coveting the possession of vile lucre 
To slake the thirst of a prince-like dissoluteness, 
Thus they would, with their hands, have derided their 
country ! 

As if ever the ambitious, their hunger satiated. 
On a light border arresting their steps. 

Could refrain from letting fall on a neighbour 
The weight of a hand armed by envy. 

* In 1820, the bill termed 'Missouri Compromise' interdicted the 
introduction of slavery into territories lying north of 36° 30' (the 
northern boundaries of Missouri), as a compensation for its (Missouri) 
admission into the Union as a slave state. 

D 



50 THE BETROTHED. 

Wlien, in the human body, of vices 

The gangrene spreads its ravages, 
Compromise indeed would not stay its progress ; 
And in the yet sound part of the member affected, 

If the knife does not fearlessly cut, 

Then of the disease the only limit 
Shall be death \ . . . 

So laborious an achievement concluded, 
On the altar by numerous libations 

Was scarcely consecrated. 
When the wind in raising the dust. 
Or, perhaps, by master cunning 
Some point at law or some profit forgotten. 
Of the deed of those giants effaced the trace : 
And Evil, untrammelled, thought to reign supreme !^ 



V. 



In the throes of a slow agony 
That unhappy people was vainly struggling, 

1 About 1853, by the Kansas-Nebraska Bill, the Missouri Com- 
promise was virtually annulled, by incorporating the * Squatter 
Sovereignty' principle, or the allowing territories to regulate their 
affairs without the interference of Congress. The practical result 01 
it was, that the slaveholders of Missouri, in attempts to force the 
' peculiar institution' in Kansas, situated north of their State, brought 
on a two-years' war, waged with fire and sword, in 1855 and 1856. 



THE ATONEMENT. 51 

When the imperilled nation, 

So long hoodwinked by these pigmies, 

Remembering that Jesus, for apostles 

Took simple fishermen ; 
That Israel, in a day of distress. 
To a shepherd entrusted her defence : 
From bewilderment and anxiety emerged. 
And to her head called ... a plain backwoodsman.^ 

Thus on the shield by the love of the people upheld, 
A just man appears 1 
Honest, simple, whose ambition is ^ to do well !' 
And of the Lord imploring help, 
Asks that it may be given him 
To know . . . ' what is well ! ' . . . 
By a perplexed people more is not needed 

To revive their drooping courage, 
And in their hearts to inspire confidence : 
Of Good so simple is the operation ! 

The Protean subtleties of a prolix eloquence 
Fell prostrate before the simpHcity of honesty . . . 

As castles of cards. 
By the hands of a child tediously raised, 

1 The election of Abraham Lincoln, in November i860, was greatly 
assisted by the splitting in the Democratic party at its Convention in 
Charleston (South Carolina), as his nomination was devoutly wished 
by those who were seeking a pretext to secede. 



52 THE BETROTHED. 

At the gentlest motion of the air collapse ; 

So, of ambition the duplicity, 

The masterly learned calculations, 

A disingenuous expediency 
When in contact with his serene meekness. 

As a light shadow vanish. 

On the lips of the woodman, 
A parable, an apologue, a word, a smile, 

Are the terrible arms which 
Of those Titans dissipate the plots ! 

Who would dare to say which of the works of nature, 

Man or flesh-worm, is the marvel ? 
The ways of God are to the eyes of men concealed. 



VI. 



Everywhere reigns a deep and gloomy silence. 
The clouds heaped up, of the darkened sky veil the vault. 
Men, of a friend, of a brother, pressing the hand. 

In whispers express their fears. 
In the fields, the herds bellowing, perplexed. 
Towards some wall, to find a shelter, hasten ! 

From one sea to the other 
Each and all are anxious. 



THE ATONEMENT. 53 

Will the rays of the sun, 
Piercing the clouds, dispel them ? 
Will the storm, in a whirlwind 
Uprooting the time-honoured oak, 

Under its fragments bury 
The sacred * Charter of Liberty?' ^ 

Of the thunder rolling in the distance. 
The first shock everywhere in space resounds ; 
And in echoes repeated. 
Of the struggle gives the signal.- 
O fearful miracle ! The first streak of lightning 
Suddenly reveals, like a bloody stream. 
That line from ocean to ocean through the air traced . . . 
And on the faces of those men gathered in groups. 
By the flashes illumined, is written 
Who among them, on the north 
Or on the south of that fiery line, 
Will take his place for the battle : 
For of som J, sacred awe and sadness furrow the brow ; 
While from the eyes of others, 
A sinister joy leaps with lurid glare ! 

1 The charter granted to the colony of Connecticut was, in October 
1687, hid in an oak at Hartford, in front of the house of a magistrate 
named Samuel Wyylyys, to prevent its surrender to the new Governor, 
who had landed with orders to have it repealed. 

^ The first shot fired upon the United States flag struck the ' Star 
of the West' as she was entering C?iarleston harbour, in February 
1 86 1 (shortly before Lincoln's presidential inauguration). 



54 THE BETROTHED. 

But stupor soon gives place to resolution, 

And the heroic phalanx 
At the voice of their chief goes forth ! 



VII. 



Danger ; blood which already flows ; 
The banner of the nation by a brave vainly upheld ;^ 
Of the first shocks, the reverses humbling their pride 
Perhaps also, God in His pity, 
Revived in their faithless memory, 
What in the recesses of their hearts 
Was not yet entirely effaced ; 
Revived the sacred hymn of their fathers ! 



* O Lord ! do not abandon us ! 
Under the yoke of tyrants, 
In tears we were groaning . . . 
May Thy wrath fall upon us 
If, of the blows which struck us. 

Forgetting the wounds ! 
If, of our chains by Thy hand broken, 
Forgetting the sores ! 

^ Major Anderson surrendered the ruins of Fort Sumpter, with all 
the honours of war, on the 14th of April 1861. 
2 Battle of Bull's Run, July 28, 186 1. 



THE A TONE ME NT. 5 5 

If ever, under our laws, . . . under chains, . . . 

Tyrants ourselves ! . , . 
We should make the unfortunate groan ! 

* Better to perish than to be slaves ! 
To liberty we consecrate this land, 
And on our retreating banners we inscribe : 
" Let all who suffer come to us ! " ' 

and in their camp, 
In the wake of the first fugitive 
Who, in his hand holding his chains. 

Panting, cleared the threshold ; 
Two virgins made their appearance . . . 

Liberty 1 . . . beckoning to victory ! ^ 



VIII. 



Throughout the vast continent, electricity 
Spreads the news of an approaching peace. 

Peace ! that word opens hearts : 
For peace ... it is family, hope, prosperity ! 
Peace : it is sorrow-laden breasts magically relieved, . . . 
Scions of one family broken asunder, 
Flinging away their fratricidal swords, 

* The turning-point of the war soon followed the proclamation 
liberating the slaves, dated January 1863. 



56 THE BETROTHED. 

In a mother's fond embrace again united : . . . 

Tears without sobs will flow as dew. 

Peace ! it is fields covered with harvests, 
No more to be laid waste by the warrior's steed. 

Peace ! it is the joyous songs of children 
Which the echoes of the woods will again repeat, 
When in the heat of noon, the signal of the horn 

To the repast by his family prepared, 

Will under the shelter of his roof. 
Summon the labourer to rest. 
Peace ! it is : joy, hope, at last over the land spread, 
Which by the air carried, everywhere is breathed ! 

IX. 

But what rumour comes anew to strike the ear. 



And of joy to suspend the transports ? 
At times it seems there are shrieks and moanings . . . 
Have some reverses suddenly 
To their miseries added their weight ? . . . 
Or can it be that, of the numberless victims. 
In horrid prisons by hunger and tortures to death sent, 
The spectres, noisily shaking their chains 
In a supreme effort to take before Eternity, 
For a last time their place around the paternal hearth, 
From the tomb have arisen !^ . . . 

• ^ Unparalleled sufferings of prisoners of war in Libby prison, Rich- 
mond, and Andersonville, Georgia. 



THE A TONE ME NT. 5 7 

The meanings become more distinct ; 
The muffled sounds of bells, clarions, drums, 
The numbered thunderings of cannon. 
Inspire sombre, gloomy thoughts . . . 
At last appears a funeral cortege, 
A whole people in mourning. 
In the midst of them a catafalque advances, 
And at its approach heads are uncovered. 
But who is the victim ? 
The father whom his weeping children 
Accompany to his last dwelling ? 
Boughs of laurels and oaks shade his brow . . . 
And his brow bleeds from a wound yet fresh . . . 

O Lord ! He ! . . . 
On his serene face dwells yet the sweet smile. 
Which the end of their misfortunes had lighted : 

The smile which on his lips played 
When at his feet in Richmond, a despised race 
Towards him were raising the arms, by his voice made 
freo.^ 

O people ! is it he ? . . . The friend, 
The father, the pacificator, the saver, 
That God in His mercy to you had sent ! 
O people ! is it he ? . . . whom 
You thus escort through the land, 
To the humble roof which was his cradle ; 

1 President Lincoln entered Richmond, amid joyous demonstrations 
of the coloured people, but a few days only before his death. 



58 THE BETROTHED. 

That, far from the tumult of cities, 
In peace he may rest beneath the same bowers 
Where, when a child by his mother to virtue moulded. 

Of liberty he had formed the image, . . . 

From his lips had fallen the words : 
' I wish all men were free !' 



X. 

Under the blows of the wicked 
Bloom the flowers of martyrdom, .... 
Modest violets in the greensward concealed. 
Whose perfume is revealed 
In the warmth of a bosom by love animated. 
Thus he whom they wished to humble. 
In that sad and glorious day rises immortal. 

Crowned with the palm of martyrdom ! . . . 

What more beautiful eve could be thine, O Lincoln ! 

On that day nineteen centuries now soon elapsed,^ 
By Pharisees insulted, dragged in dust, 
His forehead crowned with thorns, 
Jesus, gentle victim, died crucified ! 

When, after three days of consternation and tears. 

Dawned the resplendent morn of the Resurrection, 
His immortal spirit rose radiant, 

1 Abraham Lincoln was assassinated on Good Friday, I4tli April 
[064. 



THE ATONEMENT, 59 

And His kingdom, 
On the eve measured by the stone of a sepulchre, 
On the morrow had no earthly limit ! 

A long time also in secret they plotted thy ruin ; 
A few days also of prostration and mourning, 
And from the darkness of the tomb disenthralled, 
The sentiment of Love and Truth by thy virtues inspired. 
On both hemispheres found an echo ! 



XI. 



Effaced for ever from the annals of the nation 
Be the name of him who struck a head so dear to us ! 
In the last agony of a supreme crisis, 
Of the tormentors, of the ambitious tyrants. 
The cohort at bay, vanquished. 
Recoiling . . . terrified . . . 
With a fragment of a broken chain. 
On the soil stained by the poisonous slime 
Which, in their rage and mortal hate, 
Was from their impure mouths falling ; 
With a fragment of a broken chain by their hand hurled. 
The victim was slain !^ . . . 

1 It is less to the man who, like him who burnt the Ephesian 
temple, wished to perpetuate his memory, than to the spirit which 
dictated so many attempts on the liberty or life of Abraham Lmcoln, 
that his death must be charged. 



6o THE BETROTHED. 

O people ! may that blood*on thy head poured, 
To God's tribunal offered m sacrifice, 
For ever wash away thy crimes ! . . . 

That on thy banners. 
With the blood of so many victims. 
In indelible characters be imprinted 
The song of thy fathers : 

' O Lord ! do not 'abandon us ! 
Under the yoke of tyrants. 
In tears we were groaning . . . 
May Thy wrath fall upon us 
If, of the blows which struck us, 

Forgetting the wounds ! 
If, of our chains by Thy hand broken, 

Forgetting the sores ! 
If ever, under our laws, . . . under chains, . . . 

Tyrants ourselves ! . . . 
We should make the unfortunate groan ! 

* Better to perish than to be slaves ! 
To liberty we consecrate this land, 
And on our victorious banners we inscribe : 
" All men are created free and equal ! 
Let all who suffer come to us !"' 



THE ATONEMENT. 6i 



XII. 



O my son ! for that land yesterday convulsed, 
A new era has come . . . 
Purified in the ordeal of affliction 
The people command their future. 
To fulfil the covenant of their forefathers, 
Securing to all mankind the fmits of victory, 
— Equal justice before the majesty of the law ! 

They may, calm and magnanimous. 
To their misguided brothers opening their arms. 

With love dispel their sorrows ; 
And with that divine balm, heal their wounds. 
Of the World, of Humanity, 
Love is the saviour, the holy law ! 
On those faces where lately reigned 
Suffering and bitterness, pride and hate. 
Love may soon spread the sweet smile of virtue ; 
For man made in the image of God, 
On his face reflected, cariies the impress 
Of the virtues or vices which in his heart dwell ! 



O my son, my beloved son ! 
The plaintive strains which the wind brought to thee. 
Into joyous songs are transforming ; 



62 THE BETROTHED. 

Amidst harvests and flowers, 
Upon the enamelled green the happy child will play. 

Amerie ! thy affianced well-beloved ! 
Wearing upon her brow the virginal crown, 
To the altar by thy Grandsire led, 

From thy hand before God, 
Shall" receive the nuptial ring ! 



APPENDIX. 



EXTRACT FROM MARMONTEL'S 
COURS DE LITTERATURE. 

Are verses so essential to poetry, that to deprive the latter 
of them would be to annihilate it ? 

I am far from thinking that vapid prose, uncoloured and 
without animation, may replace them. I believe even a poem 
written in prose would call for a fulness of ideas, of sentiment 
and images, a fervour, a continuity of interest, which verses 
may dispense with, for the reason that the peculiarity of their 
mechanism may sometimes be able at intervals to amuse, to 
occupy the ear. But supposing all the poetical beauties, 
whether of style or of thought, united in a work, — invention, 
design, arrangement, truthfulness of imitation, the colouring 
and harmony of prose — in two words, painting and eloquence 
in the highest degree, — would this no longer be poetry, as 
soon as were wanting the number of syllables, the pauses and 
the concord which characterize our verses ? Habit has made 
them doubtless more pleasant to our ears ; and an inhnity of 
weak and ordinary things have passed under the favour of 
the illusion with which verses have beguiled the ear. But the 
beauty of the pictures, of the images which poetry presents to 
us, the pathetic features with which it penetrates us, do they 
need this seduction to be admired, to be felt ? Will its nature 
be changed by renouncing one of its means, and the most 
fantastical one of all ? 



64 APPENDIX. 

Poetry is a painting which speaks, or, if you will, a 
language which paints. The perfection of art would be to 
portray at the same time to the mind, as well as to convey 
to the ear. But if it excels in portraying to the mind only, 
would not something be effected ? Should it, instead of con- 
fining its ideas within the bounds of a rhythmical verse, 
apply itself to taking advantage of the liberty of prose, in 
order to vary the movements, the intervals, and the pauses, at 
the will of the soul and of the ear ; if this harmonious prose 
is more animated by the colouring of a figurative style, by the 
warmth of an eloquence sometimes soft and tender, sometimes 
lively and glowing ; finally, if we find in this style the character 
of the ideal beauty that distinguishes great productions of art, 
— that is, a degree of strength, richness, correctness, precision, 
and elegance, which seems taken from nature, but which, how- 
ever, never belongs to it, — will not this be still enough to make 
it poetry ? 

Prose, to this degree of perfection, is perhaps as difficult 
and rare as are beautiful verses — perhaps even more so, by 
reason of its not having prescribed formulas. But while we 
accord to verses a greater merit, and an agreeableness of fancy 
to which prose would lay no claim, I cannot subscribe to the 
opinion which has made them exclusively the language of 
poetry. I admire, as much as is possible, poets who excel in 
the art of writing in verse. I am practised in it myself, and 
I feel too deeply the price of a talent to which habit has given 
so much power and charm, to advise those who possess it to 
neglect this advantage ; but I shall always believe that the 
writer who may not be thus gifted, will still have the right to 
say, Avhile expressing in harmonious prose all which in nature 
is most animated, most affecting, most sublime, — 

'And I, also, am a poet.' 



